February comes a knocking early?

Many people have noted in recent years that clearly defined seasons seem to be a thing of the past. Whether this is a long term change or simply weather related is still debated, though reading through nature notes from the past mild winter conditions do seem to be common but irregular. Here in Somerset it certainly has been a mild winter so far, just a few days of light frost and no signs of snow. On New Year's Eve the first of the early daffodils flowered, and as I write three are in bloom as they poke out from the lawn.

Overnight, on January 28th, I read the weekly update by the RSPB from their Ham Wall reserve on the Somerset Levels. In the preceding week no less than 6 bitterns had been recorded 'booming'. Great spotted woodpeckers had been heard 'drumming', great crested grebes had begun to do their mesmerising 'weed dance' and a grey heron had been seen 'moon pointing,' a not often observed piece of breeding behaviour. The author of the blog also noted that bird song had increased over the week despite it still being January. 

I too have noticed this week that the birds have become a lot more vocal. Working from home most of the time allows me to take short comfort breaks and stare out the window, often with my binoculars. But it was while working away hard on the laptop that I heard a woodpigeons' 'take two cows, Taffy' call (I've never quite got that association but I guess it helps remember).

Nothing unusual in hearing this familiar bird but then it struck me that I'd not heard this familiar refrain for a few weeks. Gazing out the window, three woodpigeon were in the garden, two following one in their plump waddling way. No specific behaviour was seen such as mutual preening or the male flying around displaying, just three woodpigeon out for a bit of a stroll. One of them must have been the calling individual, but not while I watched. At the other end of the garden there were three male blackbirds and a single female scurrying around the shrubs.  Two species doing pretty much the same thing, following each other in the hope of spring to come, though whether these male blackbirds were local or from a-far, even the Continent, I don't know.

Birdsong really has increased on the rare sunny days here, much more to do with increasing daylength than higher than average daily temperatures. It has been quite noticeable. The starlings who roost in the roof space have begun chattering just above the office window, a constant melee of calls, cackles and wheezes. Unlike the woodpigeon who can breed all year, starlings tend to be faithful to the longer days of spring, which in most years here means I find an egg shell on the path anytime from mid March. House sparrows are noisy now, competing with the starlings for roof space. The roosting jackdaws who fly past the house morning and at dusk now noisily herald their presence with their jak-a-jac calls, passing in numerous pairs or loose family groups within the larger cohesive flock. 

It has though been the great tit which have been the most vocal, their 'teacher teacher' call has been almost as constant a refrain during daylight, much as the robin, who seems to have an endless supply of energy from dusk to dawn. Blue tits too have increased their czzzzr chzzr call as they flit to and from the feeders. It was while watching the latter I spied a couple of part-obscured fawn shapes foraging in the shrubs beyond. One was a goldcrest, the other a male blackcap. I watched the goldcrest for a long time, it began on a buddleia, inspecting the underside of every leaf on a number of branches, before moving on to the fir tree and thoroughly inspecting every needle and branch, working from the middle to the outer tips. Spending 10 minutes watching a single bird foraging really allowed me to observe the efficient way it inspected every inch of the tree. I've seen goldcrests a number of times in the garden but don't think they have ever nested in the fir tree. Maybe this year.  

Overnight this week a vixen has been really vocal. Around 2am on Wednesday morning I thought she was in the garden as the call was loud and close, but I think she was behind the garden wall, as after a few minutes, the call drifted away as the fox moved away. It's such a startling call that I remember the first time I ever heard this as a child I was scared that something untoward was happening. I couldn't hear the dog calling but no doubt he was nearby as we have a healthy population of foxes here.

We are of course a few weeks off the beginning of the breeding season proper but this relatively mild winter has brought some of the classic signs a few weeks earlier, though not with our snowdrops. The soil here is a high clay content clay soil. When I first moved here we'd get water pooling on the lawn in winter. Years of soil improvement has stopped that, though the soil remains very heavy and cold during winter. Consequently despite liking moist conditions the mid-winter coldness has meant that snowdrops have never done well. Only last week I looked for any shoots but there were none poking through the lawn. On Thursday however I was rewarded with a single flower, not more than 2cm above the ground, with more shoots pushing through around it. Elsewhere in the area snowdrops flower from early January, but here it is always mid February before they get going. I'll never have a carpet of snowdrops but that single white bulb on a grey weather day lifted the spirits somewhat.

My spirits were also lifted earlier in the week by a friend of mine in Northumberland who sent me a wonderful video of barn owls. Her sister had been out on the farm where they live and spied a barn owl quartering the equestrian complex which is part of the farm. Not one, but two in vision at the same time. The first bird after quartering the slopes by the schooling ring, flew right over her sister giving beautiful views as it headed to a fence line where another barn owl was quartering the tussocky grass area beside some gnarled ash trees. Having two barn owls in the same view and so close is a real treat, I'm so pleased my friend sent that to me and looking at the rough grassland the owls were over it proves that if the habitat is there, the wildlife will come.

Still image taken from the video I was sent of a pair of barn owls in Northumberland. 

RSPB Blog post for January 28th 2022

https://community.rspb.org.uk/placestovisit/hamwall/b/hamwall-blog/posts/recent-sightings-and-news-from-rspb-ham-wall---28-01-2022

Avalon Marshes Complex - A winter's walk.

It has been 6 months or so since my last blog post. Back then, in June, it was a scorching hot sunny day and I was to be found looking for large blue butterflies at a mid-Somerset location. It's not that since then I've been stuck indoors, but life has taken a strange turn and sped up considerably. The winter is here and it was high time to re-connect with my blog, posting what is the simplest of an image-driven walk.

We've reached mid January 2022 and I've taken a few days off to have a late Festive break having worked over Christmas. To be honest this morning's walk was simply that, a walk, a chance to get out into the countryside, some exercise and to spend what turned out to be over five hours tramping across the magnificent Avalon Marshes complex, with my wife.   Birdlife was abundant but not exceptional, so much better then to just let the images do the talking. Here we go then... the walk began at Canada Drive on the Shapwick Complex.

Here in Somerset we've had week upon week of dull grey days but this morning a really heavy frost was revealed by clear blue skies and a burst of strong sunshine. The sunshine was actually quite warm, not least as there was not a breath of wind. Underfoot however the distinct crunch of frozen ground broke the silence even after the surface frost had melted. Winter is such a wonderful time to walk, the views open out, there's a chill in the air, and what bird song there is travels far, which today was predominantly from blue and great tits, the latter with their 'teacher teacher' calls, and a number of ravens, cronking their dominance of the airways above me.

Evidence of spring, while still some way off, was emerging, with iris and arum starting to push through the leaf litter.

In this strong light some sublime images were to be had if only we stop and take time to look more intently, such as this back-lit fern on a rhyne edge. Just gorgeous.

I love bare winter trees, and this oak shows why. I tried to take some photographs of long tailed tits flitting through the branches, which became a wasted endeavour, but the realisation this tree is in itself beautiful from underneath wasn't.

Further up the Canada Drive, the strong low sunlight created these wonderful regimented shadow-lines, created from the fence line and trees on the left.  The closer we look the better the connection with nature can be.

Eventually I made it to the Canada Hide itself. This hide is brand new, replacing the one that sank into the peat and became unsafe. It is one of my favourite parts of Shapwick, simply because it is somewhere the hoards of visitors rarely come to. And today I was pretty much on my own, Julie having gone off for a longer walk, and only one other person to be seen for about for 20 minutes. Perfect.

And once inside, with some really swish sash windows to open, the view was what can only be described as 'blue'. A deep calming blue.

There was birdlife there, just a long way off, mute swans, coot, tufted duck, shoveller, gadwall and cormorants the most abundant.

Walking back from the hide a distinct mist drifted across the path highlighted by the sunshine, almost smoky in appearance it added wonderfully to the sense of isolation as I walked.

The joy of light on a mossy log - just as simple as that. 

Further on this track lies the Hawk And Owl Trust reserve, which is where Julie had walked to. I didn't follow, simply spending some time here listening to a great spotted woodpecker calling kik-kik as it flew through the branches. A couple passed me and we had a little chat, they'd heard 'drumming' over at the Westhay Reserve earlier in the morning. I had my hopes raised, however in all the time I was out I never heard any drumming.... spring isn't far away though if woodpecker drumming is being heard.

This reflection in the wet woodland really was that blue - magical, and opposite this decaying trunk had been well peppered with woodpecker holes.

The colours of this ivy just appealed to me.

Retracing my steps I then plunged into the Shapwick Nature Reserve. This image sums up what I love about this site. It's a fairly new path, one of many now connecting the numerous reserves. It feels wonderfully isolated, but the large pipe along the floor reminds any traveller that this entire Complex is man made and man managed. Without the pumping and water management to maintain wildlife, it would drain and be simply wet meadow and woodland, or simply dry out and revert to agricultural land. 

Most of the birds I wanted to photograph were so far away that even for my camera's 200 x lens, most images were just blurred dots. This coot at the Decoy Pool however got close enough to provide a half decent image. Coots are cool.

The view from the Decoy Hide over to Glastonbury Tor never changes winter or summer, different birds of course each season, and dragonflies a-plenty in the summer, but basically it is a time capsule landscape and I never tire of it. Otters are regular here, but never when I visit. One day maybe.

Great crested grebes were around, but still too early for their lovely courtship dance. No booming bitterns either today.

Towards dusk in the final half an hour before sunset we stopped at the Westhay Reserve. Many people visit Ham Wall about 3 miles away for the starling murmurations. This year however the starlings have kept everyone on their toes and have split into three groups regularly... roosting at Ham Wall, Shapwick and Westhay. But not today, not at Westhay, and that didn't matter. The light as the sun set and lit the reeds was compensation enough for me.

4.25pm and the sun was almost down..... and.... if I turned 180 degrees.....

... the Wolf Moon, the first full moon of the year was just rising to the east.

I mentioned this at the top of this post. It is simply, sometimes, the act of being outside that provides the great joy we all attempt to gain from a connected experience outdoors. Today I wasn't interested in finding rare birds, or seeing as many different species as possible, but simply enjoyed walking around, observing and enjoying this quite wonderful, and man made landscape. Humans can create beauty, if they only think about what's needed to reverse some of the ills of civilisation. Rewilding these industrial landscapes from exhausted peat workings, and in doing so creating one of the biggest wetlands in the UK, needs celebrating, mostly as I sit on a log and do absolutely nothing.